


Why Didn’t You Save Us

by Kellyjelly



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anger, Arguments, BAMF John, BAMF Sherlock, Bad Decisions, Betrayal, Blood and Violence, Cheating, Crying, Death, Fights, Fluff, Forgiveness, Hurt, Jealousy, John Needs A Hug, John deserves answers, Kissing, Lies, M/M, Making Up, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Murder, Mystery, Plot Twist, Reunion, Romance, Sadness, Savage moments, Separation, Sherlock loves John only, Smut, The bad guy is not who you think it is, True Love, Trusting Again, angst with happy ending, cute moments, sherlock loves john so much
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 08:41:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15725904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kellyjelly/pseuds/Kellyjelly
Summary: Sherlock and John were out on a case helping Lestrade, when the detective proposes to the doctor. John accepts.As quickly as Sherlock proposes, John gets shot and is left for dead.23 years later, John wakes up from a coma and comes back to Sherlock, only to find that the detective moved on. John is determined to figure out who wanted to murder him, with or without Sherlock’s help.





	1. Marry Me

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, lovely readers! Here’s a new fic, which I couldn’t help but write. Enjoy!

A dark and abandoned house was being surrounded by cops and special agents from the British government (thanks Mycroft). Lestrade had many doubts, whether this creepy place housed eight murderers that accidentally sold “special” drugs to a total of 40 victims. Each victim convulsed violently, causing them to die within seconds after taking the drug. 

Of course, to Lestrade, these deaths seemed like another case of druggies taking too much drugs and overdosing, and in no way, would all these deaths be connected to a mastermind plan of purposefully murdering these people. 

Once Sherlock came to the crime scenes, he proved Lestrade wrong and figured out that all these victims were connected somehow, and they were intentionally chosen. It took the detective, along with his lover, the good Doctor Watson, about a month to figure out that eight men who ran a cult had a run-away problem. Exactly 40 members managed to escape this horrible cult, and due to their betrayal, these men purposefully hunted them down and provided a drug that could erase their sins and be completely forgiven for abandoning their cult. 

Sherlock quickly figured out where these men were located, and here they were, surrounding this particular house, preparing their capture but if things didn’t turn out smoothly, the cops had every right to shoot these men. 

Lestrade had a squad of police officers surrounding the back of the house. Sherlock and John were located at the front of the house, accompanied by eight men who worked for the British government. 

The house was thankfully surrounded by thick green trees, which perfectly hid every man with a gun and police badges. Sherlock and John were crouched behind a tree, waiting for Lestrade’s order to move in. 

“Isn’t this exciting? Waiting for Gavin’s order.” Sherlock sarcastically remarked. 

John snorted, “His name is Greg. Not Gavin.” 

“I know, I just like pissing him off.” 

The doctor nudged the detective’s arm. “You git.” 

Sherlock smirked. “You know you love me as your git. Just as I love you, my adorable little idiot.” 

John reached forward, grabbing the detective’s blue scarf and claiming his lips. “God help me but yes, I love every part of you. You stupid sexy brilliant sociopath.” 

The detective warmly smiled, the box in his pocket growing heavier by the minute. “John.” 

The doctor checked his gun, making sure that he had enough bullets, then looked up at Sherlock. “Yeah.” 

Sherlock felt nervous when John faced him, so, to regain his strength again, he checked his gun as well, already knowing that he had more bullets than necessary. “You do have knowledge, that we’ve been together for exactly 2 years and 5 months.” 

John chuckled. “Keeping track are we.” 

“I always keep track of these things.” Sherlock smirked. “John, since the day I met you, which was July 25. My life completely changed. You are the most important thing in my life.” 

The doctor came closer, “I never took you as a romantic, Sherlock. I thought that was my job.” 

“I can be romantic when I want too.” 

John kissed Sherlock again, “As much as I love hearing you say these things to me. I have a feeling that you want to ask me a question, and I hate that I have no idea what you want to ask me.” 

Sherlock laughed. “You know me so well.” The detective reached inside his pocket and fished out a small box. 

John was completely confused. 

“John Hamish Watson.” Sherlock properly kneeled and faced the man he loved. “Would you.” The detective opened the box, revealing a ring, a gorgeous cobalt gem that resembled John’s eyes. It was surrounded by a silver band which had the letters **S+J** , etched into the silver band. “Do me the honor, of accepting my hand in marriage?” 

The doctor was speechless, he looked at the ring and then into Sherlock’s eyes. “What? Are you serious?” 

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Of course, I’m serious.” 

John laughed. “You couldn’t have waited to take me to dinner and possibly pop the question to me instead of asking me now, when we’re about to arrest eight murderers.” 

“I couldn’t wait that long.” 

The doctor looked around them. “I mean it would have been considered normal.” 

“But whoever said we were normal.” 

John bit his lip, he couldn’t contain his happiness. 

Sherlock was hiding his anxiety very well. “So, I’ll ask again. John Hamish Watson, will you marry me and be mine till death do us part?” 

The doctor wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s neck, placing his lips on the detective’s and giving him a passionate kiss. “Yes.” 

Sherlock excitedly brought him even closer and snogged the doctor till they were both out of breath. “Really?” 

“Yes, of course I will.” 

The detective quickly extracted the ring from the box and slid it onto John’s finger, fitting perfectly. “It’s a perfect fit.” 

John looked down at his ring. “Of course, it’s a perfect fit. You know my measurements.” 

“I know them by heart.” 

Lestrade spoke into his radio, “Sherlock, John, you guys will enter the house in five minutes.” 

“Got it Gavin.” Sherlock spoke through the radio. 

“It’s Greg!” Lestrade shouted. 

John and Sherlock chuckled. “Shit, we need to start arrangements for our wedding.” 

“Yes indeed, but do you want a small or big wedding?” The detective questioned. 

John thought about the question for a bit. “Probably a small wedding.” 

Sherlock smiled, secretly pleased that they didn’t have to invite a bunch of useless people, how tedious. “Good. I would hate to have a huge wedding.” 

“I figured, and where would we go for our honeymoon?” 

“I have a few ideas.” Sherlock grabbed John’s hand. “John, I understand that once people get married, their lives become… settled. When we get married, will you want to continue this.” He gestured around them. “Or, do we leave behind our crazy adventures and become a typical married couple?” 

John brought Sherlock’s pale hand to his lips, “When we get married, I want us to continue chasing killers and bugging Lestrade. Does that sound like a good married life?” 

The detective smooched the doctor and cheekily snaked his hand down to John’s bum and pinched a cheek. “That sounds perfect.” 

“Alright boys, go in!” Lestrade ordered. 

Sherlock and John stood up, weapons in their hands, quickly the detective pecked John’s lips and headed towards the house first. The detective led the first group of four men towards the house, they walked behind him as Sherlock broke down the door. John led the second group of men while he followed Sherlock inside. 

Lestrade’s men busted through the back door, bullets flying everywhere. The eight men stowed away in this house, weren’t going to give up easily. They began to shoot at the police, a storm of bullets were destroying the house, every man took cover, trying their best not to get shot. 

Sherlock hid behind a wall as he waited for these idiots to stop shooting and run out of ammo. 

“ _Fuck catching them!_ ” Lestrade shouted through the radio. “ _Kill them! I repeat, kill them! You see them, take the fucking shot!_ ” 

John heard the command and skirted around the house, trying to dodge bullets heading his way. He caught the sight of at least three of the murderers. With his excellent aim, he swiftly shot the three and hid behind a wall as he heard shots being thrown his way. 

Once the three fell, the five remaining men became unhinged and began to shoot everywhere. 

Sherlock spoke into his radio. “John, where are you?” 

John was crouching on the floor, loading his gun. “I’m by the kitchen.” 

The detective stole a quick glance and spotted his fiancé. “Cover for me.” 

The doctor cocked his gun and began to shoot. The distraction granted Sherlock to kill one of the murderers. Lestrade managed to take down another when one of his men located a bomb beneath the house. 

“Sir, there’s a bomb beneath the house, it’s countdown has begun, we have five minutes to evacuate the premises.” 

Lestrade ordered everyone to evacuate the house, for the bomb will go off any minute. John had in sight one of the remaining murderers when he was shot in the temple. Sherlock was suddenly being ushered out of the house, Mycroft’s men were pushing him towards the door. The detective wasn’t understanding why they were hastily pushing him out, he knew there was bomb ready to explode but he didn’t need any assistance to leave the house. 

Sherlock rapidly glanced to his right, when he saw John fall. “John!” He pushed against the two men hauling him out of the house. “Somebody help John! Lestrade! We need help! Lestrade!” 

One of the men holding Sherlock back was greedily annoyed by the man’s persistence to save John. “Sir, let’s go, we need to evacuate the house!” 

The detective struggled against the burly men, tears were streaming down his face. “John is down! We need to save him!” 

One of the men holding Sherlock, looked back. “He’s dead! Forget him, let’s go!” 

Lestrade desperately spoke into his radio. “We have one more minute, let’s go! Everybody get out!” 

John laid on the floor, the bullet buried into his temple, a stream of blood running down his face. Flashes of memories were appearing in his mind, the day when he met Sherlock, the laughs he shared with the detective, the night when they both lost themselves to their carnal urges, Sherlock making love to him. Their fun adventures, the cuddle sessions that he cherished with Sherlock, when he fucked Sherlock in Lestrade’s office, when they celebrated Sherlock’s birthday, and when they celebrated their first anniversary. All these precious moments were in his head, filling his eyes with tears, for he’ll never see Sherlock again. 

Sherlock continued fighting the two men, he needed to go back inside to save John, to rescue his fiancé. The two men managed to get Sherlock out of the house, and once they were far away from the house, the two men violently pushed Sherlock to the ground. 

The detective was angry and crying his heart out. “John is inside! We need to save him, you fucking idiots!” 

Sherlock picked himself up when the bomb went off. The remaining murderers that were still trapped inside, were easily dead. The force of the bomb caused Sherlock to fall back, making him land on his back. He groaned at the pain rising in his back but he forced himself on his knees and saw the remaining pieces of the burnt down house. He couldn’t believe what happened, everything occurred so quickly. 

The detective felt Lestrade pulling him up. “Sherlock! Sherlock! Sherlock!” The D.I. smacked Sherlock in the face. “Are you okay?! Where’s John?!” 

Sherlock faced the D.I. in rage. “He was inside!” 

Lestrade faced the destroyed house. “What?!” 

The detective brutally pushed Lestrade. “He was inside! I called your name! I tried to tell these two IDIOTS that he was down! But they kept pushing me out! Lestrade, he was inside!” His voice was cracking, the pain was unbearable, his heart was yearning for John. Sherlock couldn’t hold back the massive amount of tears spilling from his eyes. “I need to find him!” The detective ran towards the burning house. 

Lestrade held him back. “You can’t go in! Everything is on fire!” 

Sherlock tried to find the strength to shrug Lestrade off. “Let me go!” The detective fell to the ground and screamed in pain, the fury inside him turned into loss and sadness, he just lost the man that he loved… forever. 

The D.I. released Sherlock, his own tears finding their way into his eyes, he looked down at the broken man on the floor. 

The detective balled his fists and pounded them against the ground. “JOHN!!!!!!!!!!” 

  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

  
  
**23 Years Later**

  
  
“ John. John. John. John.” 

John heard the faint voice ringing into his ears and into his head, it wasn’t familiar at all. His eyes began to flutter, he moved his fingers, he felt his body waking up. 

“John.” 

The doctor opened his eyes slowly, he was greeted by the blinding white light that illuminated the room. His eyes adjusted to the clear image in front of him, when he noticed a nurse to his right. John was breathing heavily, he didn’t understand what was happening. 

The nurse kindly smiled. “Welcome back to the world of the living.”


	2. Misery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John returns to London to find Sherlock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn’t going to upload this chapter so quickly, but thanks too, Sugarplum3345, I got motivated. 
> 
> A bit of Mystrade is included.
> 
> Enjoy!

John took in the woman’s form and tried to speak but he couldn’t, his throat was dry and the energy to speak was nowhere to be found. 

“Don’t move, I’ll get the doctor.” The nurse assured him as she left John alone. 

A couple of minutes later, the doctor entered the room. “Hello Doctor Watson. I’m Doctor Patrick Anderson. How are we feeling?” 

John didn’t know how to respond, he wanted to know where Sherlock was, he needed to see his detective. He looked down at his hand and found the blue ring settled on his finger. John sighed in relief, thankfully he didn’t lose his ring. 

The doctor noticed John struggling to speak, so he faced the nurse. “Go get him water.” The young lady rushed out of the room as the doctor faced John again. “We need to discuss a few things Doctor Watson.” 

  
  
::::::::::::::::: 

  
  
The doctor thought it best to let John rest for a while. Once John felt relaxed and better, he summoned the doctor to his room. 

John sat up as the doctor came in along with the nurse. “Where’s Sherlock?” 

Doctor Anderson faced the nurse. “We have no record of that name. When you came to us, the only relatives we were aware of was Harriet Watson.” 

John was confused, why wasn’t Sherlock here. “Well then where’s Harry?” 

“I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this but she died. Apparently, she had liver cancer due to alcohol abuse. I am very sorry Doctor Watson.” 

John took in the information and realized that he wasn’t prepared to hear that at all. He took several deep breaths before facing his doctor. “Where am I?” 

Doctor Anderson took a seat. “Do you remember being brought here?” 

“No.” 

“Where do you think you are?” 

John looked around the room and sighed. “I’m guessing a hospital in London.” 

“Doctor Watson, you are in America.” The doctor remained silent for a few minutes in order to let John process this information before continuing. “When the you were found in London, someone managed to keep you alive for a long time, their specific instructions were to not house you in any hospital in London. From what we understood, housing you in London was not a safe option. You were transported from London to America and from there, we were able to remove bullet from your temple. As a result, here you are alive.” 

John was completely dazed; all this information was too much to take in. How was he in America? Who saved him? Did anyone know he was here? Did Sherlock know about this? Why didn’t Sherlock look for him? What on earth is happening? John tried to make sense of everything the doctor told him but he felt so lost. 

Doctor Anderson looked at his watch and realized that John was silent for four minutes. “John?” He came closer to John. “Can you tell me what year this is?” 

John was thrown off by the question, that’s honestly a silly question, of course he knew what year this was. “It’s 1995.” 

Doctor Anderson shared a concerned look with the nurse. John was perplexed, didn’t he answer the question correctly? Or was he a year off? 

“Doctor Watson, this may come as a huge shock to you but it is no longer 1995, the year is 2018. You have been in a coma for 23 years.” 

John felt his world falling by the second. “What? 23 years?” He began to shake his head. “That’s not possible, how was I asleep for so long? Isn’t there a time limit or something?” 

Doctor Anderson gave John a file. “Yes, there is a time limit where we can unplug a patient but you were a very special case. For the first eight years, we thought it was hopeless to keep you on the line but every time we decided to disconnect you, you began to heal quickly and everything was working properly. We thought you had a chance to wake up, but you didn’t. Since there was no one really, to come and give us permission to let you live or die, we took the liberty of keeping you alive for as long as we could, until you woke up.” 

John opened the file and saw a pile of papers, containing the data that was collected from him since the day he arrived here. There were daily reports of how his condition seemed to get better or it remained the same. He flipped through the pages until he couldn’t handle this information anymore, he handed the file back to Doctor Anderson. 

“Can I be left alone please?” John asked quietly. 

Doctor Anderson faced the nurse, knowing that John would express his frustration in an angry outburst, which was perfectly normal in this situation. “Of course.” They both exited the room and immediately the screams of John were heard by everyone. 

  
  
::::::::::::::::: 

  
  
**5 Days Later**

  
  
John was sitting in an examination room while Doctor Anderson showed him several scans concerning his brain. “As I said before John, you’re healthy and there is nothing wrong with you. However, since you’ve been asleep for so long, your body has forgotten how to perform simple tasks, such as walking, bending down, stretching, running, and other actions that involve movement. We have prepared a whole routine for you, you must work hard in order to regain the strength in your muscles.” 

“When can I return to London?” John asked. 

“You can return to London when you finish the routine we have for you. Once you can properly function by yourself, you can leave. As a gift, we will buy your ticket to London. It’s the only thing we can do for you.” 

John shook his head. “You don’t have to do that.” 

Doctor Anderson held his hand up. “Please, we do it with great pleasure.” 

“Thank you.” 

“No problem. Now, stay here while we prepare the next room and you can commence your exercises.” The doctor left John alone. 

John looked at his scans and he still couldn’t believe that was asleep for so fucking long. There were so many questions running though his head. After all this time, would Sherlock still be waiting for him? Did Sherlock move on? Was the detective married now? Did he forget John easily? If he returned to London, would Sherlock take him back? Oh god. John buried his face in his hands and cried, out of everyone, why did he have to deal with this? He looked at his scans with tears running down his face and he roughly wiped away his tears. John wasn’t going to quit now, he’s awake and no matter what, he’ll make his way back to Sherlock. 

But first, he needed to regain his strength. 

  
  
::::::::::::::::: 

  
  
**7 Months Later**

  
  
Month after month, John was pushing himself to get into shape. The first month consisted of walking again, which was a frustrating stage. He was constantly fighting with the nurse, assuring her that he didn’t need any help for something so simple. John would have complete breakdowns when he failed to take a step without needing assistance but the sweet nurse, Mary, always pushed him to never give up. She suffered through his rants and helped him through his moments when he felt defeated. 

After hard work, he managed to walk again, with no help. 

The rest of the months were John’s favorite, the following six months consisted of pure exercises everyday. John was required to perfect each part of his body, he would work on his arms, upper torso, legs, back muscles, and his bum. With a healthy diet, his soft pudgy body transformed into a muscled and toned work of art. 

Currently, John was in the exercise room, completely shirtless as he worked on his pull ups while Mary cheered him on. He was close to one hundred when Doctor Anderson came in, “My goodness, Doctor Watson you look like a Roman god with that body.” 

John chuckled and completed five more pull ups. He jumped down onto the floor as his muscles glistened with sweat. “One hundred done. What’s next doc?” 

Doctor Anderson laughed. “Well there’s nothing more for you. You completed your routine, you’re ready to go home.” 

John wasn’t sure how to react, he’s gotten so used to be being here and he liked being here but now, the day of leaving America has arrived. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to leave yet but he had to, he needed to see Sherlock. “Right. I’ll go take a quick shower and I’ll get ready.” 

John was sweaty as heck but he received a bunch of cat calls from the nurses surrounding him, cockily he blew them kisses and went into the showers. He felt the cool water running down his body and once he was completely clean, he stepped out and got dressed. Doctor Anderson was kind enough to lend him a pair of trousers, a light blue dress shirt, a blazer, and dress shoes. John was standing in front of a mirror, looking at his reflection. He looked different, he was no longer the blond doctor that everyone knew back in London. Now, he looked even better, his hair was no longer blond, it turned gray and lord did he look good. John liked his new look, he felt more mature and, in a way, reborn. 

Doctor Anderson came into his room. “Woah! Sexy man alert.” 

John laughed. “I’m not that sexy.” 

“Oh, shut up. You’re hotter than George Clooney and all of the nurses basically drool for you. You look good.” He approached John. “Alright, here’s your flight ticket. Your flight leaves in three hours, hopefully if I calculated this correctly, you’ll arrive in London at 11 am.” 

“Thank you.” John took the flight ticket and smiled. “Thank you for everything Doctor Anderson.” He hugged the man. 

“No problem John. I’m just very glad that you woke up. Good luck in London and finding Sherlock.” Doctor Anderson patted John’s shoulder. 

“Thank you. See you doc.” With that, John was finally ready to leave the room that kept him asleep for 23 years. 

John walked down the hallway when he saw Mary. “Mary.” 

Mary smiled. “You’re leaving us so soon.” 

“Yeah, well I got better.” 

Mary hugged him. “I hope everything goes well in London. And I hope you find Sherlock.” 

John squeezed her tightly. “Thank you.” He released Mary and with confident steps, he exited the hospital and breathed in the fresh air. 

Now, time to find Sherlock. 

  
  
::::::::::::::::: 

  
  
Like Doctor Anderson predicted, John arrived at London around 11 am, when he stepped out of the plane he felt complete again. Oh, how he missed London. He hailed a taxi and asked the driver to go to 221B Baker Street. 

Throughout the whole ride, John was nervous as hell, his stomach was a pouch full of nerves. He wasn’t sure how this was going to play out. For months he’s been dreaming of this moment, coming back to Sherlock and having a happy ending. But, John was terrified beyond belief, what if there isn’t a happy ending anymore? What if everything that he’s wishing for is an illusion? What would happen if Sherlock doesn’t want him anymore? Could he leave now? No, out of everyone, Sherlock deserved to know that he was alive. 

A moment later, he was here at 221B. 

John thanked the taxi driver and stepped out of the taxi. He felt a wave of nostalgia hitting him, it’s been so long since he’s been here. Everything looked the same, nothing has changed. John had to rest his hands on his knees, being here was taking an effect on him. He needed to regain his strength, for in a few minutes he’ll be face to face with Sherlock. Once he found his courage, he walked towards the door. 

Back at the hospital, they gave him his possessions, which were his wallet and keys. He reached for his keys and opened the door. Instantly, the smell of home went through his nostrils, John stepped inside and his heart was aching. He softly closed the door behind him and looked at the stairs leading up to his and Sherlock’s flat. John leaned against the wall, he was breathing heavily, the memory of when he first met Sherlock and how they were both standing here when they chased after the taxi driver was fresh in his memory. He could almost feel Sherlock’s body next to his, the warmth that Sherlock provided to him. John looked at Mrs. Hudson’s flat and figured that the older woman was out shopping or resting. 

Shakily, he began to go up the stairs, his heart was beating louder as he approached the flat. The door to the flat was closed. John felt so weak at this moment, it didn’t matter if he was pure muscles now, nothing could psychically help him face the fact that he’s about to see Sherlock after 23 years. 

With a deep breath, he opened the door and he was greeted by his home. Everything was the same, the skull was still on the mantelpiece, their arm chairs were still in their same spots, Sherlock’s violin was resting in the same place, the kitchen was filled with the detective’s experiments. Oh god. John wasn’t prepared for this, he figured if he saw this flat again he would feel happy but, he only felt sadness. All the time that he missed with Sherlock were gone but he could give his remaining time to the man he still loved. 

“Finally, you’re back! Did you get the acid? I need to see how it would react —“ Sherlock dropped his experiment as he saw John standing in the living room. 

John faced Sherlock and the doctor felt his heart bursting out of his chest. It’s him, it’s Sherlock. John studied the man in front of him and was amazed to see that Sherlock hadn’t changed a bit. 

The detective couldn’t believe his eyes, it was John, his John. Sherlock had to be hallucinating but he hasn’t taken any drugs in the last 10 years, so why would his brain play tricks on him? This honestly can’t be real. John was dead, he was gone, taken from him. 

“Sherlock.” John managed to croak out. 

The detective came back to his senses and realized that this was all real. This was really John. He melted when he heard John’s voice, for years he’s wondered when he would hear that beautiful voice again. “John.” 

John was breathing heavily as he smiled, finally hearing Sherlock’s voice. “Oh Sherlock.” 

The detective’s eyes raked over John’s body until his eyes landed on the ring that he gave the doctor. Sherlock felt his heart breaking, after all this time, John still loved him. 

“Dearie, here’s your tea! I’m out of biscuits but —“ Mrs. Hudson dropped the tray of tea onto the floor. She remained frozen as she saw John. 

John turned around to face the older woman. “Hey Mrs. H.” 

“John. Oh my god. How… what is happening?” Immediately Mrs. Hudson faced Sherlock. 

The doctor faced the two. “It’s a long story that needs an answer but I’m here. I came back to you Sherlock.” 

“Sherly darling! I got your acid, I honestly don’t understand your experiments but since you’re my husband, I can deal with your odd experiments.” Victor entered the flat and was confused to see Mrs. Hudson and Sherlock in shock. “Did I miss something?” 

John felt his happiness tearing down as the ugliness of reality settled in. “Did you say husband?” 

Victor looked at Sherlock. “Yes. Who are you?” 

The doctor saw the ring on the man’s hand and he looked at Sherlock’s hand. Oh my god. He’s married. “I’m — I’m no one. I thought.” John couldn’t stand being inside this flat anymore. “I’m sorry. I should have never come here. Excuse me.” The doctor rushed out of the flat, quickly running down the stairs. 

Victor wasn’t understanding anything. “Sherlock who was that?” 

When Sherlock heard Victor’s voice, his trance like state was broken. “John. Wait, John!” He pushed Victor to the side and went down the stairs. 

“Sherlock, what the hell?!” Victor shouted at the detective. 

John threw the door open and ran as fast as he could, turning the corner in order to lose Sherlock, he didn’t want the detective to come after him, not now. The doctor shoved a few people to the side as he continued running. He needed to be far away from 221B, the truth of Sherlock being married to someone else was ripping his soul in half. John’s heart was bleeding, he was hurt, broken once again. Why did he ever think that this would turn out okay? How was he so stupid to let himself believe in hope? Oh, how he wished he was dead. It would have been easier, never knowing that Sherlock moved on. How he regretted coming here, this was a mistake. 

The doctor continued running until he reached a bridge, he rested his hands on the rail and tried to stop himself from breaking down. He was strong, he could handle this change. John shouldn’t be this affected by Sherlock’s marriage, he knew that there was a possibility that Sherlock moved on. But god, it pained him to know that the detective moved on so easily. John fought back his tears, he wasn’t going to mourn over his loss, if Sherlock married someone else then that was his decision. The doctor came here to notify Sherlock that he was alive, nothing more. 

Suddenly, a spark of energy raced through his head, the memory of him inside that bloody house and the bullet digging into his temple was playing in his brain. He lost his balance but he held onto the rail and cradled his head, someone shot him but who? John remembered seeing all the murderers in front of him, so easily it wasn’t one of them. The doctor looked ahead and realized something. 

Maybe he was meant to die in that moment. He remembered the doctor explaining the reason why he was transported to America, it was for his safety. Meaning, that John wasn’t safe in any hospitals provided by London. If his killer figured out that he was housed in a hospital in London then that mysterious person who have tried to kill him again. 

Of course, that was it but who wanted to kill him? 

Instantly, John comprehended his reason for being here in London, already he knew that Sherlock was no longer his, so why bother fighting for him. His new task is finding out who wanted to kill him and in return, John will murder that person for stealing 23 years of his life that was meant to be shared with Sherlock. The doctor looked down at his ring and slid off the piece of jewelry that meant so much to him, it meant that Sherlock and him would’ve been together through marriage. He looked at the empty ring and gripped it in his fist, he was ready to throw it over the bridge when he found that he couldn’t do it. 

“Fuck.” John stared at the ring and huffed in annoyance, as much as it hurt him, he needed to keep this ring. It was the only thing that reminded him of Sherlock, if he couldn’t have the detective then at least he could have the ring. 

The doctor slid the ring on again. “Well, now I need a place to stay.” Since the death of his parents, he remembered that his parents left him a house in London. 

Hopefully, the house was still there. John composed himself and began to walk away when he heard the jingle of the keys to the flat. He reached inside his pocket and eyed the keys, he had no need for them, so why keep them. The doctor walked towards a trash bin and as much as it killed him, he threw the keys into the trash and walked away. A part of his soul was being thrown away but he needed to accept reality, even if it was a stab to the heart. 

  
  
::::::::::::::::: 

  
  
Sherlock ran down the stairs as he pushed the door open. “John!” 

He looked around trying to find John but he didn’t see him. The image of John was burned into his skull, his John looked so different. His beloved doctor returned to him but Sherlock felt a burst of regret running through his body. Why did he stop looking for John? Why did he give up so easily? Why on earth did he get married? How was John alive? What detail did he miss 23 years ago? Sherlock hated himself right now. He balled his fists and yelled violently as he realized how he fucked up everything. The detective needed to find John. 

Sherlock needed help but no one can help him now, well, that was a lie... he does have a brother. 

  
  
::::::::::::::::: 

  
  
“Oh, Gregory. That’s it darling, faster.” Mycroft held onto Greg’s hips as the D.I. rode his cock. 

“Oh love, I’m so close.” Greg rolled his hips as he thrusted his shaft into Mycroft’s hand. 

The D.I. rested his palms on Mycroft’s chest as he felt Mycroft slamming into him, setting a harsh pace as he thrusted upwards, hitting Greg’s prostate. Lestrade was on the brink of orgasming when Mycroft’s phone buzzed. 

“Oh god, what the fuck!” Greg reached for Mycroft’s phone. “It’s Sherlock.” 

Mycroft groaned in irritation, his dick was ready to spurt out copious amounts of come inside Gregory but of course, his younger brother would call at this moment. “What the devil does he want?” 

“I have no idea.” 

Greg gave Mycroft his phone and the elder Holmes answered. “What?!” 

“We need to talk. Something happened. I need your help.” Sherlock begged. 

“Sherlock call me back in ten minutes and we’ll talk.” Mycroft ended the call and resumed to fucking Lestrade. 

“Don’t you dare hang up on me! Hello? Mycroft? Mycroft! You fat idiot answer me!” Sherlock removed the phone from his ear and cursed loudly. “FUCK!!!” 

  
  
::::::::::::::::: 

  
  
The detective wasn’t going to wait ten minutes, if Mycroft won’t answer his call then he’ll just have to show up at his house. Sherlock hailed a cab and headed towards Mycroft’s house while he kept an eye on the road, hoping to see John. 

Sherlock arrived at Mycroft’s house and with no shame, he broke into the premises and went upstairs. 

“Why do you think Sherlock was calling?” Greg asked Mycroft. 

Mycroft smooched the D.I. “I have no idea darling. But I’ll call him back later, right now I just want to eat you up.” 

“Not today!” Sherlock busted into Mycroft’s bedroom. 

“Oh, my fucking god, Sherlock!” Greg covered himself. “Couldn’t you have alerted us!” 

Mycroft drew the sheets off himself and slipped into his briefs. “Sherlock! Will you for once, not act like a spoiled brat and leave this room! If you haven’t noticed Gregory and I are not dressed properly for company.” 

“He’s back.” Sherlock went straight to the point. 

Mycroft rolled his eyes. “Moriarty is dead. You took down his — “ 

The detective cut his brother off. “I’m not talking about Moriarty. It’s John. He’s back. He’s alive. He was never dead.” 

The elder Homes remained silent. “What?” 

Greg was shocked as well. “What?! How is he alive? I thought the bomb killed him.” 

Sherlock shook his head. “No, it didn’t. He came to my flat. I saw him with my own eyes. He’s alive Mycroft! Did you know that he was alive?” 

“No.” 

The detective grabbed a vase and threw it towards the wall. “HOW DID YOU NOT KNOW!!!” Sherlock approached his brother. “You are the British government! You know everything that happens in London! How is it that the great Mycroft Holmes missed the presence of the only man I ever loved! How could you have missed that!” 

Mycroft was speechless, he did everything he could to find John but as time kept passing by, he realized that John would never turn up. Now, he felt dreadful. “Sherlock, I swear I didn’t know he was alive or the fact that he’s here.” 

“Where is he?” Lestrade questioned. 

Sherlock faced Lestrade. “I don’t know. He — he knows that I’m married. Once he figured that detail out, he ran from the flat. I don’t know where he is! Mycroft, help me find him. I need to see him. I have to figure out what happened. Please.” 

“What about Victor?” Mycroft asked. 

“Do you honestly think that I care about Victor right now?” Sherlock snarled. 

“He is your husband. You’re married to him.” 

The detective looked at his ring with a disgusted face like if it was a burden to him. “Marriage is just a piece of paper, it’s just a contract!” Sherlock walked away. “Help me find John! If you don’t want to help me, then I’ll find him by myself. Lestrade, you’re invited to help me.”


	3. A Rollercoaster Of Emotions

John was happy to see that the house his parents left him was still standing. He hasn’t seen his old childhood home in ages but he figured that the house remained the same. The doctor approached the familiar house and encountered a real estate agent putting up signs that read ‘Open House.’ 

“Hello.” 

The older woman turned around at the sound of the lovely voice behind her. “Oh my god.” She eyed the man in front of her. “John?” 

John smiled as he recognized the older woman. “Hi Caroline.” 

Caroline tightly embraced the doctor. “Look at how you’ve grown up.” 

John hasn’t seen Caroline since he was a teenager, he remembered the close connection he had to the woman, for she was a family friend and their life long real estate agent. 

“Yeah its been years.” The doctor looked down at his grown-up self. 

“What happened to you? I haven’t seen you since you were 18.” 

John scratched the back of his head. “Yeah. Well, I left home, joined the army and sort of tried to figure out my life after that.” 

Caroline placed her hand on John’s shoulder. “Oh, honey. Well, did life work out for you in the end?” 

The doctor balled his fists and sadly eyed the woman. “No. No it didn’t.” 

The older woman felt terrible and offered another hug. She rubbed John’s back as the doctor embraced her closely. “Oh, I’m so sorry John.” 

The doctor released the woman and shrugged off his sadness. “It’s fine. So, is this house still mine?” 

Caroline went to grab the signs she just put up and tossed them in the trash. “Of course, it is. You are the rightful owner.” She led John inside the house. “I just need you to sign a few papers.” 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
Sherlock and Greg were inside Mycroft’s office while Mycroft was out with Anthea trying to gain more information about John’s sudden appearance. The detective was going through all the CCTV footage, scrolling through every image, trying to find John. 

He found the correct footage he was looking for and witnessed the moment when the doctor emerged from a taxi and saw 221B. Sherlock reached towards the screen, pressing his fingers onto the image of John, almost begging the screen to evaporate and grant the detective a chance to touch the man he loves. Then he fast forwarded through the footage and felt his heart cracking into a million of pieces when he saw John running from the flat. His eyes were trained on the doctor’s running form and Sherlock closed his eyes in pain. 

The detective opened his eyes and viewed the moment when John reached a bridge and held himself onto the railing. He watched as the doctor willed himself to not cry. 

Then the next image left Sherlock completely derailed. John took off his ring and forced himself to throw it over the bridge. The detective grabbed the screen, tightening his grip on the edges of the screen as he waited to see what John would do. 

To his heart’s content, the doctor kept the ring and placed it back on his finger. Sherlock let out a relieved sigh, thankfully hope was not lost. But he did feel a piece of his heart burn into ash when John threw away the keys to the flat. 

The detective shook his head, those keys were replaceable, he could make another copy of those keys for his doctor. If he had too, he’ll make a billion copies of the keys to 221B for the man he loved. Then he noticed John approaching a house and hugging an older woman, family friend? Haven’t seen each other in a long time. Familiar house. John’s childhood home. 

Once Sherlock confirmed the permanent stay of the doctor in the house, he grabbed his coat, bidding Lestrade goodbye and starting his long journey to see John. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
Once John legalized his right to own the house he grew up in, he bid farewell to Caroline and took in the home that he’d left behind when he was 18. The doctor eyed the living room, the kitchen, and basically everything looked the same. This home felt so warm, cozy, and filled to the brim with love 

God, how John fucking hated this house. 

It may have given off a homely sensation but the doctor knew the truth behind these fucked up walls. 

His mother and father would always fight with each other, hurt each other, and every night, these walls were victims to his mother’s shouts. The constant bullying that he received from Harry could be heard from every room. The countless times he came crying to his parents and they waved him off as sensitive and fucking annoying. The abuse he would receive from his father whenever his dad was pissed off and couldn’t find anyone other than him to release his anger. 

John hated this house, it didn’t look right, it didn’t resemble the violent past he lived through and it certainly didn’t resemble his broken heart. 

Well, this house needs a fucking makeover. 

Before he remodeled this house, he went upstairs towards his parent’s bedroom. He unlocked a secret compartment that held all of his father’s guns. The doctor walked inside the wide room and smiled in relief, every gun that belonged to his father were in place and still intact. He closed the door behind him and went downstairs. 

John went outside to the garden and headed towards a small shed that housed his father’s garden and construction tools. The doctor grabbed a sledgehammer and went back inside the house. He walked into the living room and faced a mirror that hung above a mantelpiece. John stared at his reflection and he didn’t like the image presented to him. He was alone, without Sherlock at his side. 

A quick memory of Sherlock and his new husband came into his mind and a wrathful anger spiked through him. He thrusted the sledgehammer against the mirror, cracking the glass into thin pieces. Then he proceeded to destroy everything around him. The doctor wanted everything broken, he wanted every false happy memory to be destroyed. He wanted this house looking like a fucking mess, he wanted every room to be completely wrecked. 

Well, John had the whole day to demolish this house… how fun. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
It took Sherlock a while to find John’s house but after a few hours, he found it. He paid the taxi driver and went towards the house. It was night already and the house looked like it was abandoned but the detective knew better. 

Sherlock approached the front door and took a deep breath before trying the doorknob. Luckily, it was open and he stepped inside the house. The detective closed the door behind him and locked it for good measure. 

Then he faced the living room and his body went into shock. 

Everything was a mess, mirrors were broken, couches were ripped open, vases were crushed, lightbulbs were cracked, tables were split into two, drawers were knocked over, and there were holes in the walls. Sherlock looked at the mess and analyzed every room, angry outburst, John needed to express his anger somehow. 

The detective kept walking through the house and eyed the broken glass beneath his shoes. “Oh, John.” 

Sherlock’s back was towards the staircase, failing to see the figure behind him. 

Then the detective heard a gun being cocked behind him. Sherlock remained frozen, a Glock 17 semi automatic handgun. Was there a burglar in the house? Impossible. It’s John, it has to be John. 

His deductions were proven correct when a voice spoke. 

“Put your hands in the air and don’t even think about doing something smart or I’ll shoot your arse.” 

The detective lifted his hands in the air. “You’re really going to shoot me Dr. Watson?” 

John stood still, he knew that voice, please don’t tell me its Sherlock. The doctor held the gun with both hands and trembled a bit, he couldn’t recognize the man’s form but the silhouette of curls was unmistakable. 

The detective turned around slowly and he was face to face with John. 

John clenched his teeth together but didn’t dare lower his gun. 

“John.” Sherlock couldn’t help the rush of happiness flowing through his body. 

The doctor didn’t know what to say, he wasn’t expecting to see the detective so soon. “How did you find me?” 

“There’s only one person who knows where everybody is.” 

John snorted. “Mycroft.” 

“Brilliant deduction.” The detective commented, using a calm voice. 

“Why are you here?” 

Sherlock came closer, “Because I wanted to see you.” 

The doctor kept his stance firm and unmoved but he could feel pieces of his soul ripping in two. “Why?” 

“Because I love you.” 

Once the detective said those words, John closed his eyes and bit his lip. The doctor turned around and pulled the trigger to the gun and shot everything in front of him until the weapon was empty of bullets. Sherlock watched as John threw the gun to the side and cradled his head. 

The detective felt so responsible for doing this to John but he could fix it, he could fix their relationship, he could fix anything. 

The doctor faced Sherlock. “You shouldn’t have come here.” 

The detective inched his way closer to John, he desperately wanted to touch the doctor. “I wanted to. I needed to.” 

John held his hand out. “Don’t. Don’t come near me.” 

Sherlock lifted his hands, the last thing he wanted to do was fuck this up. “Okay. Okay.” 

The doctor faced the detective, creating a harsh gaze between the two. “Sherlock.” John took a deep breath. “What the fuck happened? What is all of this? I don’t understand anything.” 

Sherlock didn’t know how to handle this situation. “John, I…” 

“I’ve been asleep for 23 years. Twenty fucking three years! And I wake up and I see that you’re not there. I wake up thinking I’m in London but no I was in fucking America.” 

“America?” The detective questioned. “How did you get to America? Who transported you there?” 

The doctor threw his hands in the air. “Does it look like I fucking know?! I…” John cradled his head again. 

Sherlock rushed forward, desperately wanting to comfort John but the doctor pushed him away. “Don’t Sherlock!” 

The detective grabbed his curls in anger. “Just let me touch you! Please! I haven’t seen you in 23 years! I need to touch you!” 

John narrowed his eyes. “I’m not yours touch.” 

“What does that mean?” 

The doctor laughed. “What does it mean? The great Sherlock Holmes doesn’t know what I mean?! It means that you’re married.” John pointed at the ring resting on Sherlock’s finger. “That. That fucking ring means that you’re married to someone else. It means that you took a vow to love that person till death.” 

“Marriage is just a contract.” 

“Really?! Must have been an attractive contract for you to sign.” 

The detective rolled his eyes. “John, my marriage means nothing. It is nothing.” 

The doctor became enraged. “Then why did you marry him?! If marriage means nothing then why did you marry him?! What does he have that I don’t?” Sherlock remained silent, not answering John’s question which made the doctor even angrier. “WHAT! Is it because he’s taller than me? Is he funnier than me? Is he smarter than me? Does he make you laugh the way I used to? Does he have a more beautiful smile than me? What is it?!” 

The detective snapped. “He’s nothing like you! He doesn’t have your spark. He’s dull. Boring.” 

“And yet, you married him. How original Sherlock.” John massaged his temples. “Why didn’t you save us?” 

“Who says we can’t save our relationship?” Sherlock asked. 

The doctor lashed out on him. “What relationship?! This thing between us, doesn’t exist anymore! I woke up alone in a hospital in America! Alone! No one was with me! Not even you! Then I’m told that 23 years have passed and those fucking wasted years involved me being asleep! And then I come here with the illusion that maybe you’re waiting for me. Instead, I come here and I‘m greeted by you and your husband. And right in that moment, I realized that I lost you.” 

“No! That’s not true!” The detective shouted. 

“It’s true Sherlock. You gave up on me! I’ve been asleep for fucking 23 years! I missed all the memories that we could have created together! I missed everything!” 

Sherlock stood straight. “You had it easy.” 

John was taken back by the response. “Excuse me?” 

“You heard me. You had it easy.” 

“Fuck you!” 

The detective lost his patience. “Its true! You were asleep! I was awake! I was there when we made a funeral for you! I lived every single minute of day without you. Each morning I would wake up and I would see, that you’re not there! I’d have conversations with you and then realize that I’m completely talking to myself. I couldn’t process the fact that you were dead. I-I couldn’t believe it, I just couldn’t. Until one day I got tired of being alone, I couldn’t face this world without you. So, I went back to drugs.” 

Sherlock began to pace. “I began to snort cocaine, I injected my veins with heroine. I continued to do this until I overdosed. Then I woke up in a hospital and it dawned on me that maybe, just maybe, you wouldn’t want to see me suffering like this. I was a mess John. So, with the help of familiar people, I got my act together and slowly became better. But every time I thought about you, I would relapse. So, in order to save myself from falling back into drugs, I purposefully deleted every information about your death and… everything about you. I intentionally forced myself to forget about you. Once I did that, everything fell back into place again.” 

The doctor dropped his eyes to the ground, glueing his vision to the shattered pieces of glass, processing everything that the detective said. 

Sherlock continued speaking, “My life started to fall back into normality again. I moved on. But before all that, I never stopped looking for you. I couldn’t stop but there was nothing to go on, there were no clues… nothing. I honestly tried as best as I could to figure out your case but once I lost hope, I had to learn how to cope with the fact that you were gone. But when everything started to get better, I had to admit to myself that all the information I deleted about you, was still alive in my brain. As much as I believed to have forgotten about you, I would have dreams about you. Somehow the memory of you couldn’t be destroyed. You lived through me. And you may not believe me but I visited your grave everyday, never once did I fail to appear. I just missed you so much that it was necessary to learn how to forget about you. It just made sense to me at the time.” 

John ripped his gaze from the ground and looked deep into the detective’s ocean blue eyes. “I’m sorry.” 

“For what?” 

From a certain point, the doctor understood Sherlock. “Sometimes I forget that you suffered as well. We were both affected somehow. But like you said, you moved on. So, my advice to you Sherlock, is to not dwell on me any longer. Don’t dwell in the past.” 

The detective didn’t understand. “Who says you’re past?” 

“I do. I’m your past, I’m not your present and I’m definitely not your future. Those positions have been filled by your husband. So, go to him. Go.” 

Sherlock waved his hand at the preposterous suggestion. “He’s not my present and he’s not my future. You are my everything. I can’t let you go. Not again.” 

John pursed his lips in disbelief. “Well, you did it before, I’m pretty sure you can do it again.” 

The detective tried one last time to touch the doctor, to reassure John that he won’t leave him but the doctor sent him an irritated glare towards his way. “Don’t.” 

Sherlock felt his chest hurting, he balled his fists and dared to step in front of John. Not pressing their bodies together but if they commenced to breathe heavily, their chests would be able to touch. “John, I can’t bear to lose you again. I just can’t. Whether you like it or not, I’m going to be with you everyday. I’ll be —“ 

The doctor couldn’t stand the detective’s stubbornness. He didn’t need Sherlock being around him or protecting him. John was capable of going places alone and he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself (thank you very much). He didn’t want the detective around him but if Sherlock insisted on following him everywhere then the detective needed to be prepared for sassy remarks and hurtful comments that reflected the doctor’s feelings. 

“Just leave Sherlock.” John cut Sherlock off. “There’s nothing between us that’s worth fighting for. Just go.” 

The detective felt his heart being stabbed by thousands of hot searing knives. Sherlock took a deep breath and walked away from the doctor. 

He paused halfway and faced John. “Do you not love me anymore? Do you hate me that much?” 

Those questions made the doctor want to breakdown and cry. Every word stung his heart but he wasn’t going to give the detective the satisfaction of seeing him be weak and melancholy. “On the contrary, I love you more than air but what we had… is gone.” 

“No, it’s not. I’m not giving up. Not yet.” 

John sighed. “This isn’t a battle worth fighting for.” 

“Oh, it definitely is. You know it is. But before anything else. You’re here for a specific reason. You’re here to solve your case.” 

The doctor crossed his arms. “Yes I am.” 

Sherlock smirked. “You’ll need help solving this case. Seems to me that you need a detective to help you.” 

“I don’t need anyone’s help. Especially from a detective such as yourself.” 

The detective snorted. “You might be smart John but your brains are no match for mines. Its not a question, you definitely need my help.” 

John cocked his head to the side. “I’ll take my chances.” 

“There’s no need to argue with me. I’ll see you here tomorrow and we can start the process of figuring out who wanted to kill you.” 

The doctor chuckled. “I don’t want your help Sherlock. Get that through your thick pig-headed skull.” 

Sherlock smiled sadly. “I missed this.” 

“And what’s this?” 

“Us bickering. I miss having a conversation with you.” 

John was not on the same emotionally attached level as the detective was, he was irritated by Sherlock’s lack of understanding the simple idea that he wanted to solve this case alone. “Well, I don’t.” 

“You’re a terrible liar.” 

The doctor bit the inside of his cheek. “And you’re a brat who won’t understand my decisions.” 

“I think its safe to say that the game is on again.” With that, the detective left. 

John buried his hands in his face, he knew that this was treading through dark waters. If he spent more time with Sherlock then his broken heart would close again, it would heal. But it was wrong, the detective was married, that piece of information was embedded into his brain and he would never forget it. This was simple, he could handle being with Sherlock, it was a colleague thing. Yes, that’s it, they’ll only work together as colleagues and nothing else. The doctor could handle this, he could hide his broken heart from the detective while solving his case. 

But who the fuck told Sherlock that John would be here tomorrow? The detective might forcefully push his presence towards the doctor but John wasn’t going to make this easy on Sherlock. The doctor’s goal is to keep the detective away from him and prevent himself from falling in love with Sherlock again. 

Easy peasy.


	4. All I Wanted Was You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely readers! So, quick recap, I finished my semester and I’m free to write! So, expect updates for my other works! 
> 
> P.s. I’m sorry to those who like Victor Trevor but I don’t like him at all. So, does that give me the right to make him an annoying asshole? 
> 
> Of course it does!

Sherlock closed the door behind him and jumped in victory, not only did he learn about the whereabouts of John but he’ll be able to see the doctor tomorrow. He promised himself that he’ll be here the first thing in the morning. The detective began to head back home, well if he could still call it that, without John, the flat wasn’t considered his home. He crossed a bridge in full excitement until he felt the huge weight of the useless ring encompassing his finger. Sherlock stopped and approached the railing that clung onto the bridge. 

The detective looked down at the empty diamond ring Victor gave him, this piece of jewelry never meant anything to Sherlock and he never had a good reason to take it off. 

Until now. 

The detective slipped off the ring and with no regret, he threw the ring over the bridge and for once in his fucking miserable life, he felt free. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
“Mrs Hudson, where is he?!” Victor shouted for the third time. 

The landlady was tired of hearing Victor’s yells. “Dearie, I don’t know. I’m not his mother. And please stop yelling at me.” 

Victor tossed his phone on the couch. “You’re not helping! Just leave, you’re so useless!” 

“I honestly don’t understand why Sherlock married you. At least John was a sweetheart. You’re a monster.” With that, the older lady left. 

Victor rolled his eyes. “Bitch.” 

Sherlock closed the front door and raced upstairs, entering the flat and removing his coat. 

Victor emerged from the kitchen. “Where the fuck were you?!” 

The detective passed by Victor. “Am I entitled to answer that question?” 

“You’re my husband!” 

“And is that supposed to mean something to me?” 

Victor grabbed his phone. “What the fuck is your problem?!” He displayed his phone. “Do you know what this is?” 

Sherlock quickly glanced at Victor. “A mobile device.” 

Victor huffed in annoyance. “Stop being so fucking fancy! It’s a phone. A phone! And you know what this is used for?! Calling and texting.” 

The detective rolled his eyes. “What an obvious conclusion.” 

Victor grabbed Sherlock’s arm, forcing the detective to face him. “I called you! I texted you! And nothing! Why didn’t you answer me!” 

Sherlock ripped his grip from Victor’s hand and pushed the man back. “Maybe because I didn’t feel like answering.” 

“What the hell is happening?! Ever since this afternoon, you’ve been acting strange. Who was that guy that came here?” 

The detective returned to finding a box. “Its none of your business.” 

“It’s actually my business.” 

Sherlock faced the man who was legally considered his husband and gave him an angry glare. “I’m sorry, the last time I checked, your job is to exist and not poke your fat nose into affairs that aren’t correlated to you.” 

“Who is he?” 

“Why do you want to know?” 

Victor approached Sherlock. “Tell me who he is!” 

“No!” 

Victor delivered a sharp slap across Sherlock’s face. “For once in your life stop acting like a child and tell me who he is!” 

The detective caressed his abused cheek and with hate in his eyes, he pushed Victor against the wall and gripped the man’s throat. “You want to know who he is. Fine. He is the man I lost 23 years ago. I believed he was dead. And before I lost him, I was going to marry him. He is the only one I have ever loved. He is my true love. And honestly, I’m starting to question why the fuck I married an annoying, ruthless rat like you.” Sherlock tightened his grip, causing Victor to lose oxygen. “Consider yourself lucky to be alive because if it were up to me, I’d murder you right here and now. But because you helped me through a dark time in my life, I won’t hurt you. Though it’d be easier to get rid of you and my problems would go away.” 

The detective released Victor and watched as the man coughed, trying to get back the air stolen from his lungs. “Leave.” 

Victor looked up at his husband. “Excuse me?” 

“I said leave.” 

Victor massaged his throat. “You’re kicking me out of my own flat?” 

“This was never your flat in the first place. You came here and barged into my home. This is my flat, not your flat. Check your facts you idiot.” Sherlock vehemently spitted out. 

“I’m not leaving anywhere!” 

The detective didn’t have time for this. He ruffled through the mess of papers scattered everywhere until he found the box he was looking for. Sherlock placed the box on his table and went upstairs towards his room. The detective entered his room and pulled out a huge suitcase and zipped it open. He opened his closet and grabbed all his clothes, stuffing them inside his suitcase. 

Victor entered his room. “What are you doing?” 

“If you’re not leaving, then I’ll go.” 

“Are fucking kidding me?” 

Sherlock kept dumping clothes into the suitcase. “Actually no.” The detective grabbed all his shoes, socks, briefs, and picture frames. “I’d rather be at the very pits of hell than stay here with you.” Sherlock zipped his suitcase and pushed Victor out of the way. 

The detective placed the heavy suitcase in the middle of the living room and headed towards the stairs. “Mrs Hudson!” 

“Sherlock, what are you doing!” Victor shouted. 

Mrs Hudson opened her door. “Dearie, what’s going on?” 

“Can you order me a taxi?” Sherlock asked calmly. 

“Does this request involve you leaving that horrible man?” 

The detective smirked. “Of course.” 

The landlady smiled widely. “I’ll order a taxi right away.” 

Sherlock raced upstairs and grabbed two bags where he placed all his equipment for his experiments and his skull. 

“Sherlock, you’re being ridiculous!” 

The detective faced Victor. “Yes. For once, being ridiculous is the correct thing to do.” 

“Sherlock —“ 

Mrs Hudson entered the flat. “Your taxi is here love!” 

“Thank you. Can you please take those two bags down for me?” Sherlock asked. 

“Of course, dearie.” The landlady began to take down the bags to the taxi. 

The detective scanned the whole flat, he grabbed his violin, the box he needed and his suitcase. “Goodbye Victor.” 

Victor stepped in front of the door. “You’re not leaving me. Let’s talk about this.” 

“I have nothing to discuss with you. Get out of my way.” 

“Sherlock, I love you. Yes, you’re a fucking annoying git and a freak if you will but I didn’t waste all my years with you just so you can walk out on me. Somewhere inside your heart, don’t you love me?” 

Sherlock cocked his head to the side. “Do you want to know why I never fully gave myself to you? Because unlike you, the man I love, never considered me a freak. He never saw me as a freak of nature. He regarded me as a genius. Yet, in opposition to you, you never cherished me rather you liked the idea of being with Sherlock Holmes, the consulting detective. You always loved the attention. And for that, I never learned how to appreciate you. And as for love, how can anyone love a pebble in their shoe?” The detective came closer to the man he absolutely loathed. “You know, I’m honestly starting to believe that you took advantage of my delicate state when we got married. If I was in my right mind, I would’ve never married you. Now, get out of my way.” 

Victor remained unmoved. 

Sherlock shoved Victor to the side, using his luggage as a helping hand. The detective went down the stairs and didn’t look back. Sherlock stepped outside and shoved all his stuff inside the taxi. 

He faced Mrs Hudson and hugged her. “Goodbye Mrs Hudson. This is only temporary. I will come back but I’ll only come back when I have John.” 

The landlady squeezed Sherlock. “Go find him dearie. Bring him home.” 

“I’ll try.” The detective entered the taxi and with a last wave, he left. 

Victor ran down the stairs and watched the taxi depart. “YOU CAN’T LEAVE ME SHERLOCK!!” 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
Mycroft was laying on his belly as Greg kept pumping his fingers inside his hole. “Oh love, you’re so tight.” 

Lestrade began to nip on the crook of Mycroft’s neck as Mycroft pushed back on the fingers penetrating him. “Mm, darling. I want to feel you inside me.” 

Greg clasped his teeth on the delicate skin belonging to Mycroft’s neck as he removed his slicked fingers from Mycroft’s loosened hole. Lestrade swiftly slid his cock inside his husband’s ass and growled deeply as he felt the heat encompassing his girth. Greg released the skin in between his teeth and held Mycroft down against the sheets as he lifted himself and delivered the first thrust. 

“Oh Gregory. That’s it.” Mycroft cooed. 

Lestrade began to pick up his pace, the bed kept hitting the wall in front of them. Greg smacked Mycroft’s bum, eliciting a horny scream from the man below him. They were just getting started and lord were they ready for an eventful night. 

“Just letting you know, I’m staying here from now on. You both can return to your explicit activities.” Sherlock announced through a speaker that ran through Mycroft’s house. 

Greg stopped fucking Mycroft and slumped himself on top of the ginger man. “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME SHERLOCK!!” 

“Actually, I’m not.” The detective responded through the speaker. 

Mycroft rolled his eyes and actually begged to be shot in the head. “Gregory. We’ll have to resume our activities later.” 

“Yeah.” 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
Sherlock was adjusting his room to his liking and setting up his microscopes when Greg burst into his room. 

“You better have a damn good reason why you interrupted me and Mycroft!” Lestrade shouted. 

Mycroft came running after his husband. “Gregory before you lose your temper. I have an answer to your question.” 

The elder Holmes quickly scanned his brother. “You left, didn’t you?” 

The detective went back to fixing his things. “I couldn’t stay in my flat. Victor was getting on my nerves.” 

“So, you decided to take up residence in my home?” Mycroft questioned. 

“You don’t mind, do you? Of course, you don’t.” Sherlock answered. 

“Did you find John?” Lestrade asked. 

“I did.” 

“And?” The D.I. pressed on. 

The detective faced his brother and Greg. “And nothing happened.” 

“What do you mean nothing happened?!” 

Mycroft placed a hand on Lestrade’s shoulder. “Calm down darling. You’re going to help him solve his case, aren’t you?” 

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Took you long enough to figure out.” 

“Sherlock, you can’t just leave your husband —“ 

“He’s not my husband!” The detective shouted. 

“Technically he is. You can’t just leave him after everything he helped you through.” Mycroft remarked. 

With an annoyed glance, Sherlock said. “Whose side are you on?” 

The D.I. thought about the question and faced his husband. “Yeah, who’s side are you on?” 

Mycroft eyed Greg in surprise. “You’re not siding with me?” 

Lestrade looked at the detective then back at his husband. “I’m sorry love, but no. I mean… if I found out that you’ve been alive for the past twenty-three years and I believed that you were dead. I would drop everything I have and try and get you back.” 

Sherlock smirked. “Thank you, Gavin.” 

“Greg!” Mycroft and Greg shouted. 

“Anyways, get out of my room, I need to fix my things.” The detective began to push his brother and the D.I. towards the door. 

“Wait!” Lestrade said. 

“We need to talk Sherlock.” Mycroft firmly stated. 

“Less talking more getting out.” Sherlock shoved the two men out of his room and closed the door, locking it. 

Mycroft and Greg looked at each other. The elder Holmes grabbed his husband’s hand and led him back to the bedroom, where they would try and get some sleep. 

The detective didn’t finish fixing his things, for he went straight to the box that he acquired back at the flat. He opened the box and inside were all the files concerning John’s case. For years, he’s tried to accumulate all the information that could one day, solve the case of John Watson. And as hard as he tried, he still couldn’t solve this case but now that John was back in his grasp, there may be a chance to solve this mystery and maybe, find the perpetrator responsible for ruining their lives. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
It was morning and Sherlock managed to escape his brother’s home, purposefully leaving early to avoid any conversation that Mycroft wanted to have. The detective hailed a taxi and went to John’s house. 

Sherlock arrived at his destination, he asked the taxi driver to wait for him and the detective excitedly skipped towards John’s front door, where he was met with a note. 

  
  
**Nice try Sherlock. See you at the crime scene.**

  
  
Sherlock grabbed the note and with a playful smirk, he returned to the taxi and went to the crime scene. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
John left his home early as heck, purposefully trying to avoid the interaction that would be required if Sherlock and him came to the crime scene together. In a taxi, the doctor arrived at the area that was once surrounded by small cottages but now, it resembled a vacant lot that was home to hundreds of trees. John paid the taxi driver and began to head towards the memory that was responsible for the destruction of his life. 

The doctor eyed the trees that were leading up towards the house that he technically died in. After a few minutes, he arrived at the site that made his mind experience a horrible déjà vu. John clenched his fists and with guarded steps, he approached the destroyed house that was being covered by grass and small plants. 

The doctor remained frozen as he halted himself before actually stepping onto the large pieces of wood that were scattered everywhere. He took a deep breath and with confidence, he stepped onto the creaking wood that once resembled the form of a huge house. John began to walk all over the destroyed pieces of the house and the memories came flooding into his mind. A slight headache was forming inside his head but he waved the annoying pain away and continued surveying the area, trying to at least find something, anything that could help him. 

The doctor was comfortable going at a leisurely pace when he saw it. The exact spot where he received a bullet to his temple. He remained unmoved as he eyed the spot that once consisted of him lying dead. 

“No matter how many times I come here, the image of you falling is still engraved in my mind.” 

John turned around to face Sherlock. “And exactly how many times have come here?” 

“Too many to keep track.” 

The doctor turned around and faced the unmoving spot on the floor. “That’s probably the sweetest lie I have ever heard.” 

“I’m not lying.” 

“That’s nice Sherlock.” 

The detective came closer. “Why didn’t you wait for me?” 

“Maybe because I didn’t want too.” 

“You still don’t believe me, do you?” 

John came closer to the spot and crouched down on his knees. “And what exactly am I required to believe in?” 

“That I still love you.” 

The doctor faced Sherlock. “Don’t do that.” 

“Do what?” 

“Look Sherlock, I’m here to solve a case. My case. I’m not here to discuss about this tension between us. If you can’t concentrate on helping me, then go back to your husband. I’m pretty sure he’s missing you.” 

The detective made a sour face. “I doubt that.” 

“Well, you’re the one who married him.” 

Sherlock stepped towards John, he stood across the doctor as he crouched down as well. “I can change that.” 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” 

John removed the pieces of wood to the side and dug his fingers into the soil that covered what was left of a marble floor. “The memory is so fresh in my mind. Its feels so surreal to comprehend that I died here. Or at least, I thought I died.” 

“For years, I’ve been trying to figure out what happened. Whenever I try to find something, I always hit a dead end.” The detective made his famous prayer like stance with his hands. “Nothing correlates together.” 

The doctor almost smiled, seeing the all too familiar image in front of him. That stance used to be John’s favorite but now, it just reminded the doctor of what could have been if he remained alive. 

“Did you have any suspicions of who shot me?” 

Sherlock looked into John’s eyes. “I had one theory but its ridiculous and wrong.” 

“Who?” 

“Moriarty.” 

The doctor frowned. “Why did you think it was him?” 

“Isn’t it obvious? He despised me and hated you. Moriarty always wanted to target my heart and that was you.” 

“What happened to him?” 

The detective looked at his hands. “He died. Shot himself in the mouth.” 

John was surprised. “How did that happen?” 

“Well, after you were presumed dead, I… went on a rampage. I destroyed his network and once I did that, I finally had his attention. We met on the rooftop of St. Bartholomew, exchanged a few words while interrogating him and no matter how hard I scrutinized him, I couldn’t find anything. He wasn’t responsible for your death. After I figured that out, everything just went downhill. He threatened to kill Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade if I didn’t jump off the rooftop and kill myself. So, me and Mycroft came up with this brilliant idea of staging my own death. But what I didn’t expect, was Moriarty taking out a gun and killing himself. So, I had no option but to jump. Once we did that, things sort of returned to their normality.” Sherlock sighed. “Yet, I don’t understand who could be responsible for this.” 

The doctor took in the detective’s words and sadly smiled. “You were busy.” 

“Hate and anger are good motivators.” 

John returned to observing the dirt covering his hand. “With nothing to go on, we have no leads.” 

Sherlock pressed his lips into a thin line. “Correct.” 

“Do you suppose this hopeless?” 

“No. I don’t.” The detective dared to place his hand on top of the doctor’s. “We’ll figure this out John.” 

The sudden touch caused John to look up at Sherlock, god its been so long since the detective touched the doctor. John hated to admit it but he’s missed the sensation of feeling Sherlock’s skin on his. Someone could blindfold the doctor and immediately he could tell if it was the detective touching him or not. He knew Sherlock’s touch so well. 

The detective was relieved to know that John didn’t pull away or flinch at his touch. Sherlock was internally melting into a puddle of squishy globs, he’s been waiting for 23 years to touch the doctor again. He tightened his hold on John’s hand and leaned forward, wanting to kiss the doctor. 

When John felt the tight squeeze to his hand, his headache returned and he had a flashback of when he was shot. The sudden memory flashed through him like lightning striking a metal pole. He ripped his hand away from the detective and stood up as he cradled his head. The burning pain of feeling the bullet digging into his temple was setting his skin on fire. He walked away trying to distance himself from Sherlock. 

“John.” 

“Stay away from me Sherlock!” The sudden pain was fading away. “I need to go.” 

“Where are you going?” The detective was blocking the doctor’s path. 

“What’s it to you?!” 

Sherlock lifted his hands. “John, what just happened? Did you have a flashback? Does it usually hurt like that?” 

John was becoming irritated and his anger was rising. “This is not your concern!” 

“It is my concern! I need to know if you’re hurting!” 

“I’ve always been hurting Sherlock! The fuck you think! You honestly think I’m walking around like a happy daffodil who loves life! Well, guess what? No! I hate everything! Life is so cruel and unfair! And I hate you! I hate you so much!” The doctor balled his fists. “Now, get out of my fucking way before I beat the shit out of you!” 

“No John. You didn’t mean anything you said!” 

John pushed the detective, trying to get past him. “Now you’re telling me what I’m supposed to mean! Who the hell do you think you are?!” 

“John.” Sherlock kept pushing the doctor back, not letting him pass. “Let me help you. Right now, you’re angry, you’re not thinking clearly. We should go to a therapist or something to clear up the issue of these flashbacks. You’re not well John.” 

John felt every string of his patience being snipped in two. “Excuse me?” The doctor came face to face with the detective. “I’m not well? Is that what you think? Are you calling me crazy?” 

Sherlock shook his head. “No that’s not —“ 

“You think I’m crazy Sherlock?!” John punched the detective’s chest. “I’m not crazy! I know I need help! Out of every fucking person on this earth, I don’t need you telling me that I need help!” 

Sherlock tried to stop the punches directed to his chest. “John, stop it!” 

“Don’t tell me what to do Sherlock!” 

The detective managed to stop the doctor from hitting him and wrapped his arms around John. “John, you’re not crazy! You never were!” 

“Let me go Sherlock!” The doctor tried to squirm his way out of Sherlock’s embrace but the constant struggle against the detective caused John to turn around, his back-meeting Sherlock’s chest. 

“Stop fighting me John!” 

“No!” The doctor felt his energy dying down. His hands that were holding onto the detective’s forearms were loosening. The anger inside John was changing into sadness. He felt his body slumping down to the ground. “I can’t stop fighting against you.” 

Sherlock felt the doctor’s body slipping towards the ground. With his arms wrapped around John’s biceps, he fell onto the ground with the doctor. The two men remained on the broken pieces of wood, John trying to control his breathing while the detective didn’t dare loosen his grip. 

“All.” The doctor heavily sighed. “All I wanted was you when I woke up. That’s all I wanted.” 

Sherlock felt his heart breaking at the broken voice belonging to the man he loved. “All I wanted was to never lose you.” 

John closed his eyes and forced himself not to cry, not in front of the detective. “But you did.” 

“We can change that.” 

“Its not that easy.” 

“Its easy if you let us try.” Sherlock begged. “Please, John. Just… please.” 

The doctor regained his strong composure. “Let me go Sherlock.” 

“No.” 

“Sherlock.” 

The detective felt himself breaking down. “I can’t let you go. I lost you once, I’m not losing you again.” 

John released Sherlock’s forearms. “You did it once, you can do it again.” 

The detective had no choice but to release the doctor. John stood up on his two feet and without any delay, he left Sherlock. 

“John.” The detective woefully whispered. 

The doctor heard Sherlock’s voice but he didn’t stop, rather he kept walking ahead. Not daring to stop and hear what the detective had to say, for there was nothing he had to hear. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
“Hello, my name is Lilly Evans.” 

John simply smiled at the woman in front of him. 

Lilly looked through the doctor’s file. “Okay, before we start, I have a few words to say. This first session will not be charged at your name. I believe that everyone must have a trial run in order to decide if you want me as your therapist. If you do not like the way I run these sessions, then you have every right to not accept me as your therapist. This is entirely up to you.” 

“Fair enough.” 

The blonde woman smiled. “Very well then. Before we start, I have a question.” 

“What is it?” John questioned. 

“You’re Harriet’s brother, aren’t you?” 

The doctor made a confused face. “How did you know that?” 

“Forgive me, I didn’t want to pry but I used to be your sister’s therapist.” 

“You were?” 

“Yes.” Lilly adjusted her glasses. “I’m sorry but I am quite familiar with your case. When you were presumed dead, your sister came here looking for help. She began to drink a lot and I tried my best to help her. But I guess it wasn’t enough. Then I received the notice of her death.” The woman frowned. “I am sorry about her loss.” 

“Thank you.” 

Lilly and John remained silent, the quiet surface stretching uncomfortably. 

“So.” The blonde woman began. “Why are you here John?” 

The doctor tapped his finger against his leg. He never did like therapy or the idea of having a therapist. John never felt comfortable exposing his vulnerable weaknesses to others. “Apparently, I need help.” 

“And why do you need help?” 

The doctor remained silent, not really having the correct answer to that question. Already, he was feeling desperate and eager to leave. 

“What do you feel John?” Lilly asked instead. 

John clenched his jaw. “Many things.” 

“Like what?” 

The doctor pressed his palms together not answering the question. 

Lilly observed the doctor. “Do you have short temper?” 

“What gave me away?” 

“The simple notion that you don’t want to be here. John.” The blonde woman placed a strand of hair behind her ear. “I can’t help you unless you open up to me.” 

John shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “I feel anger.” 

“Why do you feel anger?” 

“It’s a long story.” 

Lilly shrugged her shoulders. “We have an hour to spare.” 

The doctor bit the inside of his cheek and decided to take the help this woman was offering. “I used to be with someone. Someone I cared for.” 

“What’s his name?” 

John rested his elbows on his thighs. “Sherlock Holmes.” 

“What happened?” 

“We were on a case. I got shot in the temple. I was left for dead. But then, twenty-three years passed and I wake up in a hospital located in America.” 

Lilly jotted down every word the doctor said. “Do you know how you came to be in America?” 

“No.” 

“Go on.” 

John began to bounce his leg up and down. “I had to stay in America for a bit to regain my strength. I had to learn how to walk again and… once I got back the strength in my body, I came to London.” The doctor chuckled. “I came here and I had this stupid idea that maybe Sherlock would be waiting for me.” 

“And was he?” 

“No.” 

Lilly crossed her legs. “Why wasn’t he?” 

John began to feel claustrophobic and stood up from his seat. “Can I pace?” 

“Of course.” 

The doctor began to walk back and forth. “He wasn’t waiting for me because my spot was already filled by someone else.” 

“How do you mean?” 

“He’s married.” 

The blonde woman looked up from her notes. “I see.” Lilly pressed the pen in her hand against her lips. “How did you feel about that?” 

“Honestly I felt a shit ton of emotions.” 

The blonde woman winced a bit at the profanity being used. “Name them for me.” 

“Anger, hate, sadness, confusion, disbelief, betrayal, forgotten.” 

“Do you think Sherlock loves the man who is legally considered his husband?” 

John stopped pacing. “I don’t know. Perhaps.” 

“Do you still love him?” 

“Yes.” 

Lilly took a sip of her tea, she could tell that this topic made John angry and perhaps violent. So, if John wanted to continue these sessions with her, she’d ask the doctor about his relationship with Sherlock later. For now, she directed the conversation to another route. “Why are you here John? I assume this is more than just feeling angry at your ex partner’s success in life.” 

The doctor walked towards a window. “I have episodes.” 

“How do you mean?” 

“At times, I get these headaches. When I have these headaches, I experience flashbacks.” 

The blonde woman jotted down John’s words. “What do these flashbacks consist of?” 

“The moment I got shot.” 

“Describe what you feel when you experience these flashbacks.” 

The doctor faced Lilly. “I feel this sharp pain through my skull. I feel like the world is revolving so fast that I can barely keep up with it. I feel like I’m reliving the same moment again.” 

“Do you get violent when these flashbacks happen?” 

“I guess. I don’t like it when people are close to me. It makes me feel enclosed.” 

The blonde woman nodded. “It’s normal.” She faced John. “John, its safe to say that you’re experiencing a severe trauma in your life. Because your attempted death was so sudden, your brain couldn’t comprehend how to accept this dilemma you went through. And from the looks of it, you’ve been asleep for twenty-three years. Your brain was functioning at the time but its daily activities to keep your brain active, slowed down. Since you were asleep, your brain didn’t collect any new memories. Due to the lack of processing new memories, your brain held on to the only memory that is vividly intact. Now, after years and years of keeping that memory strong, it only makes sense that when you woke up, you’d be… shall we say haunted by that memory.” 

The doctor returned to his seat. “Are you saying these flashbacks won’t stop?” 

Lilly gave an uncertain face. “Not necessarily. These flashbacks can be treated like PTSD. From what your sister told me, you were an army doctor.” 

“Yes.” 

“And how did you cope with PTSD?” 

John thought back at those dark times where he came back to London and lived in a small flat, waking up every single day, contemplating whether to kill himself or not. “I didn’t.” 

“Are you sure?” 

The doctor realized the meaning of the question. “Harry told you about Sherlock, didn’t she?” 

Lilly blushed. “She mentioned you meeting a man who gave you a reason to live again.” The blonde woman smiled. “The nightmares stopped when you met him, didn’t they?” 

“Yes.” 

“Then there’s your answer.” 

John was confused. “How do you mean?” 

“War leaves many scars on people. You were haunted by the memories of war. War is a traumatic event that affects one’s life. Because that experience was so traumatic, you couldn’t find something to heal you. But when you met Sherlock, you were introduced to an equally shocking event.” 

The doctor chuckled. “I honestly don’t understand what you’re talking about.” 

Lilly laughed and got up from her seat. “Okay. Let me make this simple for you. When you were experiencing PTSD, you must have felt trapped and almost suffocating on those nightmares. But then, you met a young man who introduced you to a whole new world of excitement, laughter, adrenaline, and hope. That is a positive shock to your brain, it has the same amount of power that PTSD has over a person’s brain. Because of that positive shock, you were healed. Now, these flashbacks are in the same category.” 

John began to understand. “You’re telling me, that if I experience a positive shock again, I’ll be cured.” 

“More or less.” 

“And what would heal me?” 

The blonde woman removed her glasses. “Well, I imagine you would have some sort of closure.” 

“You mean, if I figure out who did this to me, I’ll be fine.” 

“Yes.” Lilly wondered. “Are you trying to figure out who tried to kill you?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Wonderful! Then if you find out who committed this crime against you, that positive shock should have the same effect on you as it did before.” 

The doctor bit his lip. “Do you think it could work?” 

“I do.” 

John smiled. “Okay.” 

The blonde woman smiled at their progress as she looked at her watch. “My gosh. Time does fly.” 

The doctor was shocked. “Its been an hour already?” 

“Almost, we have ten minutes left. So, Mr Watson, do you feel comfortable having me as your therapist?” 

John studied the woman. “Yes, I do.” 

“Great, well I’ll require you to see me once or twice a week. Whatever is convenient for you.” Lilly smiled. 

“Thank you.” 

“John.” The blonde woman said. “Before you go, I must let you know that when we meet again, we shall discuss about your progress in this new era. Since you were asleep for twenty-three years, I imagine things have changed since… 1995. As an exercise, I want you to visit a place that you once used to go to and see if things have changed since 1995. I will want to hear about this.” 

The doctor let out a sigh. “I’ll try.”

**Author's Note:**

> A friendly reminder, this is my fic and if you do not like the way I portray the characters then please don’t waste your time reading this and then leaving a mean comment. If what I write is not to your liking, then please find another author who will satisfy your cravings. Other than that, enjoy! Toodles :)


End file.
